identity

Officially, Jacqueline Jackson, wife of presidential candidate Jesse Jackson, was not among the 69 passengers aboard a Midway Airlines 737 that made a one-engine landing in Pittsburgh on the way from Washington to Chicago recently.

“Our passenger name list did not include anyone by the name of Jackson,” Midway Airlines said after the emergency.

But she was, said Mark Horrell, a fellow passenger and former neighbor of the Jacksons’, adding, “I saw more of the Jacksons on that plane than I saw of them in two years living across the street from them.”

A couple of days later, Jesse Jackson quietly confirmed his wife and one son had been on the plane. By then, however, the news value had faded.

That’s probably the way Jacqueline Jackson wanted it.

Though the incident faded with hardly a notice, it spoke volumes about Jacqueline Jackson–elusive, private and largely unknown to the public, including fellow travelers on an airplane in trouble.

While Jesse has spent the last 20 years thrusting himself into the limelight, Jacqueline has been almost as successful at avoiding it.

When she doesn’t feel like talking, requests for an interview, directed to her personal secretary, to her home, to the Jackson campaign might just as well be made to dial-a-joke. Calls weren’t taken seriously.

When she does decide to talk, pausing to accommodate an interviewer during the events surrounding the college graduation of her 61-year-old mother, she is articulate, charming, charismatic even.

Yet Jacqueline can be intimidating and combative when discussion drifts into areas she decides are off limits. Once she has made a statement, follow-up questions bounce off an invisible barrier defined by riveting eye contact and pointed repetition.

For instance, does she get a fee for her public speaking?

“Often I do.”

“Now, on the campaign. . . . ?”

“Often I do.”

“Before. . . ?”

“Often I do.”

“But. . . .”

“ Often . . . I . . . do .”

Jackson has little patience for reporters who would pry into her life.

“My friends do not discuss me with the media,” she says flatly.

And she has even less patience with the suggestion that, for an aspiring First Lady, she is elusive if not evasive.

“I would be willing to say to you that my family has been scrutinized far more than any family that’s in this public situation that we’re in today. . . ,” she says, sitting in her hotel suite in Hampton, Va., last weekend. She has granted interviews to a few news organizations lately, and she and her husband are completing a book about themselves. So she sees no reason to talk to everyone who asks.

“I am not private or protective. But there’s a point that you can’t give any more. I can’t permit you to move into my home with me. I must have my family.”

Jacqueline Lavinia Davis Brown Jackson was born 43 years ago, in Ft. Pierce, Fla. Like the man she would eventually marry, she was born out of wedlock. Her mother was Gertrude Davis, a teen-age migrant worker who earned 15 cents an hour picking beans.

Of those early years in Florida, Jacqueline remembers only talking and laughing a lot, and listening to her “little red radio.”

Her mother eventually married Julius Brown, a civilian employee of the Navy who would later work for the post office. Brown soon moved his family to Newport News, Va., where he bought a two-story, clapboard-and-shingle home in the quiet neighborhood in which Jacqueline and her four siblings were raised.

Lined with green lawns and tall crepe myrtles filled with chirping birds, it’s the kind of street where sticky spring afternoons lure folks to the front porch to chat and watch the baby carriages passing on the sidewalks.

The street hasn’t changed much since the days when the Brown children would press their noses up against his window to hear his jazz band rehearse, says De Witt Cooke, 72, who has lived his whole life across the street from the home Julius Brown still owns.

Cooke remembers the Browns as a friendly but very private family, not adverse to visiting, but not much for socializing either. “There was a togetherness in the family,” he says.

Gertrude Brown raised the children while working full time at the local Veterans Administration Hospital.

“When Gertrude spoke, that was it,” says Cooke. Jacqueline remembers that her mother was strict–too strict she thought then–but loving. She taught her daughter how to crochet and do needlework, and Jacqueline made all her own clothes. “I was very fashionable in church,” she says.

Dinner–”simple food: pork chops, corn, green beans”–was served around a big table. Everyone said grace. And the children were in bed by 8:30, Jacqueline says.

Besides church and Sunday school and Baptist Youth Training, the Brown children didn’t get out much. “I didn’t date really,” Jacqueline says. But Julius Brown was the leader of the local Boy Scout Troop, and Jacqueline remembers going to the prom “with my father’s Eagle Scout, some young man he liked.”

Sara Green, who lived next door to the Browns, recalls that Jacqueline “was different. She was the kind of person who would always talk to older people. And she always could talk. . . . She was always a girl who was going to get ahead. She had that drive.”

After graduating from the all-black Huntington High, Jacqueline went on to North Carolina Agricultural and Technical College.

Because blacks and whites worked together in the shipyards, segregation in Newport News was not as dramatically defined as in some parts of the South. But the local stores did not serve blacks in their cafeterias, and in clothing stores, Cooke says, “if a black tried something on, it was his, whether it fit him or not.”

Jacqueline says that as a girl she never really had cause to confront the injustice of what Jesse Jackson now calls American apartheid. In college, however, she quickly became active in the civil rights movement. And, she has said, it was political discussion that attracted her to Jackson, a top athlete and campus hotshot.

Jackson, she says, was “my first courting boyfriend.”

When she was 18, they were married. He received his degree and went on to the Chicago Theological Seminary. She began her career as a mother.

“During my day, you either came home with a degree or a husband and you were considered successful . . . I got a husband,” she says.

Jackie is certain she will get her degree some day. “But that will be after my 12-year-old gets hers,” she says.

The Jacksons, who live in a two-story, 15-room house in Chicago’s South Side, have three sons and two daughters in their 25-year marriage. The oldest is daughter Santita, 25, a senior at Washington’s Howard University. Jesse Jr., 23, and Jonathan, 22, are graduates of their father’s college, North Carolina A&T.; A third son, 17-year-old Yusef, recently was graduated from a private school in Washington, D.C. The youngest, 12-year-old Jacqueline, goes to a school in Massachusetts.

Over the years the children have traveled with Jesse. And when Jacqueline headed off to march or boycott or pass out flyers, they often went with her. “They are extremely political because they were never separated from what we thought, or from our conversations,” Jacqueline says. “When we had parties that were political parties, they were at liberty to mingle with the guests. . . . So their conversations became political conversations, they (became) interested in issues.”

It was Jacqueline’s job to hold things together, everyone involved agreed.

“She’s what we call the backbone,” says Yusef. “She’s really there to keep the family together.”

“She stayed out of the way and Jesse kept her out of the way but she gradually has moved forward,” says Edwina Moss, the wife of Rev. Otis Moss who is chairman of Operation PUSH, a Chicago-based civil rights organization founded by Jesse Jackson. Moss went on to say that Jacqueline has somehow found a balance between maintaining her own identity and being overshadowed by her husband. She remembered once telling Jacqueline that she felt at loose ends because her husband was away a lot, just like Jesse. Jacqueline responded, she recalled, “Why don’t you just throw yourself into good books?”

The nature of the marriage is hard to discern. The topic and most personal questions are basically off-limits with both Jacksons. Reporters traveling with the presidential candidate contend that the marriage seems to be showing stress during the few appearances the two make together. Friends, however, disagree.

“She has great influence on him. I think she has a great influence on anyone she’s around,” says John J. Hooker, a Nashville politician who has spent a lot of time with Jacqueline during the campaign. “She once said to me (and she says often), ‘He is, after all, my hero, my political hero.’ I think she has this real feeling for him, and I think she communicates with him on all different levels, as wife, in conjunction with fact that they’re parents, about children, also on political basis.”

“She is able to stand in the background, yet stay on the same level intellectually,” says Moss, who calls herself a longtime friend.

The Jacksons also share the financial burden. According to their latest tax returns, the couple had income of almost $210,000 in 1987, $159,000 of which came from Personalities International Inc., the public-speaking management firm Jacqueline heads, and through which both Jacksons book their appearances.

Widely traveled, Jacqueline is a forceful speaker on issues. At the same time, though, her mission is by its nature linked to her husband and his mission.

In December, 1983, Jacqueline, former Rep. Bella Abzug (D-N.Y.) and a dozen or so other women went to Central America as part of a self-appointed “alternative Kissinger commission,” to further explore the information that had been compiled in that bipartisan commission’s controversial report, which recommended increased military aid to El Salvador and implicitly backed the Nicaraguan Contras.

International Tensions

The trip was difficult and sometimes frightening, with guerrilla wars raging and international tensions at a peak, others in the delegation said.

Especially in Nicaragua, many people saw Jesse Jackson as a hero and extended their enthusiasm to Jacqueline, swarming around her, shouting out affectionately and wanting to touch her each time the entourage went into the streets, the others recalled.

Likewise, the Central American press tended to focus its cameras and attention on Jacqueline, says Sonja Johnson, the 1984 presidential candidate on the Citizen’s Party ticket. A continuing and sometimes heated feud developed over Jackson’s open endorsements of her husband’s candidacy. Supporters of then-Vice President Walter Mondale, including Abzug and former Assemblywoman-now-Los Angeles City Councilwoman Gloria Molina “tried to get Jackie not to promote her husband’s candidacy down there . . . They were quite certain he couldn’t get nominated and saw it as divisive.”

“She said, ‘That’s nonsense,’ ” Johnson recalled. “ ‘Obviously I want my husband to win. What a silly thing to ask me not to talk about him . . . . You can tell them we’re not all for Jesse, but I’m always for Jesse.’ ”

“I hadn’t been around many women who were so strong and self-assured, but who didn’t attribute anything to the women’s movement,” says Roxanne Dunbar Ortiz, an anthropology instructor at Cal State Hayward who was Jackson’s roommate and frequent companion on the Central American trip. In late-night talks and on long bus rides, however, Jackson told Ortiz that she had been affected by her childhood experiences in the South, and the hardships of the the civil rights movement, rather than organized feminism, sharing a view among some black women that feminism is “a white woman’s thing–feeling sorry for ourselves,” Ortiz says.

“I would say, ‘You had all these kids. They must have limited your involvement,’ ” Ortiz says. “But she said it didn’t at all. She said, ‘I raised these kids to have free minds to fight for themselves. My greatest contribution to the civil rights movement was how I raised my kids.’ Her greatest pride was in her role as mother.”

Her Views

“I am mainly concerned about children and women. Equal pay, comparable pay. I am concerned that women are shouldering the burden of poverty,” Jacqueline said last weekend, her arms slicing through the air. But, she added, “I think I approach the issues of women from a, let me say, a darker perspective.

”. . . Through the slave-ship experience women did the same work and provided the same services as men . . . rather than being protected and shielded and taken care of . . . . So we had a longer relationship with the work force and the economy and politics in this country.”

This heritage has led Jacqueline to a view she calls “progressively old-fashioned.” She embraces equal pay but also certain traditional religious values. She is, for instance, pro-choice on the issue of abortion but she doesn’t believe teen-agers should have that option. Nor does she believe birth control pills and condoms should be dispensed by churches and schools.

“I believe children should be taught abstention . . . They should be taught that there are some dos and don’ts . . . I believe, young people should be taught to keep their zippers up on their pants, and girls should be taught to keep their panties up.”

That she and her mother both became pregnant at an early age does not mean that she finds such behavior acceptable, she says. In overcoming the odds against teen-age mothers, she and her mother were “one out of a million,” she says.

“I’m not terribly liberal when it comes to raising a family,” she adds.

People also observe at deep empathy in Jacqueline when she travels, an empathy that apparently is working its way through the candidate’s wife into the process of American party politics. H. H. Brookins, a power broker in Los Angeles’ black community who calls himself a close friend of the Jackson family for 20 years and a bishop of the A.M.E. Church, recalls a policy discussion among a handful of advisers in the Jackson home a few months back. When talk turned to Nicaragua, Jacqueline made herself heard, he says.

Does the candidate listen?

“Sometimes he does, and sometimes he doesn’t. He’s my husband . . .,” Jacqueline says. “I have never taken advantage of my relationship with my husband. If it is an important decision, I sit at the same table with everyone else. Sometimes I am defeated. And I love to tell them, ‘I told you so.’ ”

Many of her political opinions have been shaped by her extensive travels–to the Middle East, Africa, and Latin America.

A Different World

“The Third World is no longer as naive as it was 40 years ago,” she says, no longer willing to be pushed around. “America is extremely vulnerable to being perceived as a nation that has military might, and bully behavior. . . .

“In our country, we sing ‘God Bless America.’ We place our hand on the Bible when we go to court. We speak of another force that we suggest should protect us because we are good. And we disrespect it in the same breath when we place so much emphasis on war and building weapons that will destroy other human beings . . . What is it? Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. It’s a contradiction.”

Jackson calls herself a traditionally religious person. On the trip to Central America, Jackson got up each morning and said her prayers, Ortiz recalled. “I’d still be sleeping and overhear her. It was very much felt. Not just ritual.”

During the bitter New York primary election when Jesse Jackson was attacked by New York City Mayor Edward Koch, Robert T. Starks, who calls himself a personal and political friend of the Jacksons’, said the couple “relied a great deal on their religious beliefs and convictions to pull them through.”

What kind of First Lady would she be?

“She’d be the replacement of Jackie Kennedy . . . in terms of style and flair,” says Brookins.

Last Sunday in Hampton, that is just how she was introduced: America’s next First Lady. She stood up in the bleachers of the Hampton Virginia Coliseum, waving to the cheering graduates and alumni of this school that was founded in 1868 to educate newly freed slaves.

On the dais, Jesse Jackson raised Gertrude Brown’s hand, saluting his mother-in-law for overcoming great odds to achieve her dream. It was in an electrifying speech of hope through education and family.

Then the Jacksons went back to the hotel for a reunion party with family and friends. After an hour, Jesse Jackson said a quick goodby to his wife and, flanked by Secret Service men, headed off for more campaigning.

Jacqueline Jackson returned to her family.

NEW YORK — Zohran Mamdani, the Democratic nominee for New York City mayor, pledged Friday to further embrace his Muslim identity in response to growing attacks by former Gov. Andrew Cuomo and his surrogates that he characterized as “racist and baseless.”

Encircled by faith leaders outside a Bronx mosque, Mamdani spoke in emotional terms about the “indignities” long faced by the city’s Muslim population, choking back tears as he described his aunt’s decision not to ride the subway after the Sept. 11 attacks because she didn’t feel safe being seen in a religious head covering.

He recounted how, when he first entered politics, an uncle gently suggested he keep his faith to himself.

“These are lessons that so many Muslim New Yorkers have been taught,” Mamdani said. “And over these last few days, these lessons have become the closing messages of Andrew Cuomo, Curtis Sliwa and Eric Adams.”

At a news conference later Friday, Cuomo accused Mamdani of “playing the victim” for political purposes and denied that Islamophobia existed on a wide scale in New York.

Throughout the race, Mamdani, a democratic socialist, has been criticized by Cuomo and others over his criticism of Israel’s government, which he had accused of committing genocide against Palestinians in the Gaza Strip.

But the tone of those attacks have amped up in recent days, drawing allegations from some Democrats that Cuomo’s campaign is leaning into Islamophobia in the final stretch of the campaign.

Appearing on a conservative radio station Thursday, Cuomo appeared to laugh along at host Sid Rosenberg’s suggestion that Mamdani would “be cheering” another 9/11 attack. “That’s another problem,” Cuomo replied.

A Cuomo social media account posted, then removed, a video depicting Mamdani eating rice with his hands and describing his supporters as criminals. A campaign spokesperson said the video was posted in error.

At an event endorsing the former governor, Mayor Eric Adams invoked the possibility of terrorist attacks in New York City, seeming to suggest — without explanation — they would be more likely under a Mamdani administration.

“New York can’t be Europe. I don’t know what is wrong with people,” Adams said, standing alongside Cuomo. “You see what’s playing out in other countries because of Islamic extremism.”

At a debate earlier this week, Sliwa, the Republican nominee, falsely smeared Mamdani as a supporter of “global jihad.”

Asked about Rosenberg’s comments, Cuomo said he “didn’t take the remarks seriously at the time.”

“Of course I think it’s an offensive comment. But it did not come out of my mouth,” he added.

Messages left with Adams’ and Sliwa’s campaign were not immediately returned.

In his speech Friday, Mamdani said he was aiming his remarks not at political opponents but at his fellow Muslim New Yorkers.

“The dream of every Muslim is simply to be treated the same as any other New Yorker,” he said. “And yet for too long we have been told to ask for less than that, and to be satisfied with whatever little we receive.”

“No more,” he said.

To that end, Mamdani said he would further embrace his Muslim identity, a decision he said he consciously avoided at the start of his campaign.

“I thought that if I behaved well enough, or bit my tongue enough in the face of racist, baseless attacks, all while returning back to my central message, it would allow me to be more than just my faith,” Mamdani said. “I was wrong. No amount of redirection is ever enough.”

He continued: “I will not change who I am, how I eat, for the faith that I’m proud to call my own. But there is one thing that I will change. I will no longer look for myself in the shadows. I will find myself in the light.”

Mamdani, who won the primary in stunning fashion, has faced skepticism from some in the Democratic establishment, particularly over his criticism of Israel. On Friday, Mamdani earned the endorsement of House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.).

Cuomo told reporters that Mamdani’s criticism of Israel had made Jewish people afraid to leave their homes.

He also rejected Mamdani’s claim that Muslim New Yorkers have been made to feel uncomfortable in their own city.

“Don’t tell me New Yorkers are Islamophobic. They’re not,” Cuomo said.

“What he is doing is the oldest, dirtiest political trick in the book: divide people,” Cuomo said.

Offenhartz writes for the Associated Press.

The TV star is passionate about helping young men to get support in their roles as new dads, after losing his own father at a young age

As a father of six kids aged between two and 17, Joe Swash knows a thing or two about parenting. But the TV star says that when he first became a dad, aged 25, he felt “vulnerable, under-prepared” and ignored by society.

And he fears that things might have got even worse since then, which inspired him to make a film to highlight the desperate situation that many young fathers trying to raise their children find themselves in.

Joe, 43, lost his own father when he was just 11 and had no role model to guide him through while he was raising baby Harry, now 17, with his former partner Emma Sophocleous.

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“From what I’ve found, there’s not a lot of support out there for young dads, and if there is some, it’s very, very difficult to find,” says Joe, who now has a large blended family with his wife Stacey Solomon.

“I’ve got six kids that I look after. Being a dad is a really big part of my life. And I remember being so vulnerable, so under-prepared for my first child, not really knowing anything, not really having anywhere to go for some help. My dad wasn’t around. There were no charities geared towards young dads.When I’d go to,a child parent club, it was always going to the mother-child club. I never felt really included.”

Joe’s relationship with Emma broke down just a few months after Harry’s birth and Joe wonders whether the large number of single parent families in the UK could be partly down to the lack of support for young fathers.

“I feel like it’s an area that’s been overlooked,” he explains. “There are lots of absent dads out there and I just want to know whether all of them are absent because they want to be or because there wasn’t enough support for them. If that’s the case then I want to shine a light on that and let people know that there’s got to be something done to make the situation better.”

In his new documentary, Joe meets several young men who are learning on the job and trying to be good dads to their kids. He believes that having positive male role models is not only beneficial for the children – it’s a massive help for men too. Without his own dad to learn from, Joe admits he found the transition into fatherhood really difficult. “I do think it sort of really shaped who I am as a person. You know, not having a dad. I didn’t really know there’d be any issues with it until I’ve got older. I struggle with my identity,” he admits. “What sort of man am I? Am

I expected to be an alpha male? There’s lots of things I struggle with because I never had my dad there.”

One young man in the film is Wyatt, who is currently living separately from his partner and their child because of their circumstances, but is determined to make it work out. Joe says: “I always get this feeling, you now, we should be celebrating people like Wyatt and his partner, because not only are they young but they’re doing a fantastic job and we should be celebrating these positive role models.

“I can definitely feel Wyatt’s pain, you know, because all he wants to do is be with his partner and his child, be a family.”

Looking at the young men who features in the one-off show, he recognises himself in all of them. “I can see a lot of the vulnerabilities in the young men that we met in this documentary because I felt that way,” Joe says. “It’s a real big gulf in your life when you haven’t got a dad or a positive male role model. I remember being young and just craving someone to sort of put their arm around me and look after me, but I never had one.”

Without these types of influences, Joe is concerned that there are plenty of young men who will make the wrong choices or take the wrong path. “That’s the danger,” he reasons. “They’ll fall into places with people that are not positive because they crave just someone looking out for them.”

He’d like teen dads, or those their twenties, to have somewhere to turn for help and advice. “It would help if there was more set up for young dads where they could be around other young dads and they can start the conversation,” he says. “When you first get a baby in your hands, it’s so delicate. You’re so scared of it. The thought of changing a nappy is quite daunting. You know, if you’re not taught it and no one’s showed you it, how are you going to learn it? So I just feel like there’s got to be more places out there for dads wanting to be dads.”

And he points out that the biggest killer of young men is suicide. “We suffer in silence, we don’t open up or talk about our problems. But you put us in a room of other people that are going through the same sort of things, you don’t feel the pressure, you feel open, you want to express yourself. If we can get young dads in the room together, they would know that they’re not the only ones that are feeling these things, that are going through these emotions.

“I got to travel the length and breadth of the country meeting these young dads, listening to their stories, and the whole way along I just kept thinking to myself, ‘we’ve just got to get them talking, you know, open the conversation otherwise everyone’s just suffering in silence.”

Viewers who watch Joe’s film, Forgotten Young Dads, will see that while the group all have their individual struggles, they’re also pretty resilient. After meeting them, Joe feels both inspired and hopeful for the future. “From the time that I spent with them, I think that all of those kids are going to have great dads,” he smiles. “They were all completely hands-on. They’ve done everything from change nappies, feed them and put them to bed. And I just think that is the modern-day alpha male.”

Joe wants young men to realise that being a man isn’t about boozing and bust-ups – it’s about raising your family and getting properly involved in the next generation. “Anyone can go down to the pub and have a fight, or watch the football at the weekend. But not every man can change a nappy, get up in the middle of the night and do all the things that a real dad should do. I was very proud of them.”

– Joe Swash: Forgotten Young Dads, 8pm, Monday 20 October BBC3, Tuesday 21 October BBC1, and iPlayer

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AN Israeli couple whose abduction by Hamas became one of the most haunting symbols of the October 7 massacre have finally been reunited.

Noa Argamani, 27, and her boyfriend Avinatan Or, 32, were seized from the Nova music festival in southern Israel in 2023.

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Images of Noa screaming as she was dragged into Gaza on the back of a motorbike while reaching for Avinatan became one of the defining moments of the horror attack.

But this week, they were back in each other’s arms.

Video from the Re’im reception site shows Avinatan walking into a room and immediately embracing Noa, the pair clinging to each other after a harrowing 738 days apart.

The IDF shared a photo of him kissing her cheek as she smiled – a stark contrast to the terror captured in 2023.

Avinatan was among 20 hostages freed on Monday as part of a ceasefire deal between Israel and Hamas brokered by US president Donald Trump.

Noa was rescued by Israeli forces in June 2024 after 245 days in captivity.

Their reunion comes with a dramatic revelation: Avinatan is a member of Sayeret Matkal, Israel’s elite special forces unit modelled on the British SAS.

His identity had been kept secret throughout his captivity amid fears Hamas would retaliate if they learned who he was.

Reports in Israeli media say Avinatan was held in isolation for more than two years, never encountering other hostages.

Medical examinations show he lost between 30 and 40 per cent of his body weight after prolonged starvation in captivity.

After his release, he reportedly asked to spend time alone with Noa – and the two shared what they called their “first cigarette together after two years.”

Noa described the horror of their abduction in a speech in Washington last week, days before Avinatan’s release.

“Avinatan and I came to the Nova music festival just to celebrate our life,” she said.

“We found ourselves in the darkest tunnels of Gaza. I cannot even begin to describe those terrible pictures.”

She said she searched for information about him throughout her captivity.

“I asked about Avinatan everywhere I went,” she recalled.

“I didn’t know if he was murdered or kidnapped, and I was afraid to know the answer.”

Noa, a Chinese-born Israeli citizen, has campaigned for the release of hostages since her rescue.

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When news broke that Avinatan was among those to be freed, she scrambled onto eight separate flights to return from Washington in time for his release.

Adding to the extraordinary turn of events, Avinatan’s employer revealed that his shares in NVIDIA had quadrupled while he was in captivity.

The company’s stock rose from $45.76 at the time of his abduction to $188.32 today.

Their reunion was one of several deeply emotional scenes on Monday as the 20 remaining living hostages were returned to Israel after more than two years underground.

Families who had campaigned for their return wept and embraced loved ones, some of whom appeared dramatically thinner and frailer than when they were taken.

Brothers David and Ariel Cunio were reunited with their partners Sharon and Arbel, while Omri Miran embraced his daughters – one of whom was just six months old when he was kidnapped.

“I’m on cloud nine,” said Omri’s father Danny.

“One moment I’m crying, the next I’m laughing.”

The hostage release follows a Trump-brokered ceasefire deal aimed at ending the two-year war in Gaza, which has killed tens of thousands and caused a humanitarian crisis.

It also paves the way for future stages including the disarmament of Hamas and the formation of a transitional government.

“After so many years of unceasing war and endless danger, today the skies are calm, the guns are silent and the sirens are still,” Trump said in a speech at the Knesset.

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